Barbie Towel

The Barbie Towel-I will never be able to replace the towel because it sunk to the bottom of Lake Hartwell along with my own sense of security. Alex still remembers the towel and the incident that led to the lost towel; I don’t think that she’ll ever forget it.

“Do I have to wear it? I am so hot. I’m sweatin’ like crazy, Mommy,” Alex complained once again about the life jacket. We were only paddling about 200 yards to our campsite from the little island so what’s the harm.

“Nay. You’ll be fine,” I agreed. Mostly because putting on the jacket was a hassle and because I was tired of the whining.

“Okay,” reluctant Dan said. He hated to disagree with me because I usually won the arguments about parenting. I mean, I am the mom and I was usually right.

Deli, Alex, Dan and I hopped into the canoe and slowly glided towards the site of our tent. Deli, our 20 pound “mixed-breed,” paced back and forth and peered over the side of the tattered green canoe. "Alex hold on to my beer and bottle opener. Don't spill the beer," Dan instructed Alex.

"Yes Daddy. I won't spill it," Alex answered sweetly. For a three year old, Alex had an excellent vocabulary and spoke almost every word perfectly. She never said, "pill" for "spill" or any other funny language confusions that young children often do.

“Go right, Nicole,” Dan barked to me through sounds of Alex’s constant talk and Deli’s occasional interjection, “BARK, BARK, RUFF.”

“What?” I questioned amid the cacophony of sounds.

“Right, I said!” Dan squawked again.

“Okay,” I mumbled. I’ll go right.

“No,” yelled Dan!

“Oh, no!” I screamed.

As the canoe quickly and quietly flipped into the murky waters of Lake Hartwell to dump its inhabitants, I turned to catch a glimpse of my precious 3 year old daughter. She was everything to me. What had I done? What if I loose her? I couldn’t bear it. But, in this frozen moment, I saw Daddy, Dan, grab his precious 3 year old daughter. She was everything to him too. She was his best bud, his little girl, his everything.

As the muddy, cold water hit my face, I still had one thought-Alex. Where was she? Did Dan still have her? Suddenly, I felt a sharp, clawing pain on my neck. It was Deli. She could swim but still wanted me to hold her and protect her. Deli was scared too, and I had been her mommy for five years. But, as usually happens when a child is born, the family pet becomes like an old pair of worn jeans-important and dependable but not as crucial as the new diamond in your life. Alex was our sparkling diamond! I brushed Deli away and scanned for Alex and listened for any sign of her or my husband. Finally, as I defended my neck from Deli’s surprisingly sharp claws, I saw them. They were safe. Alex clung to Dan’s neck like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe. Ironically, Alex also clutched the bottle of beer in one hand and the bottle opener in the other like the Statue of Libery holding her torch and tablet. She clung to them as if they were a life preserver that would help her survive the dirty water.

Then, I heard the sounds of our college friends on the beach of the little island. They were scrambling to reach us. They were scrambling to reach Alex. She was their diamond at that moment.

Dan and I made eye contact to reassure ourselves, and as I protected my face from Deli’s claws, I saw Alex’s desperate eyes. She was pleading with me with her stare, “Protect me, Mommy. I’m scared.” I gave her a reassuring glance and tried to swim to her with Deli attached to my neck. While I was swimming, I noticed our Birkenstocks and drinks bobbing in the brown lake water.

Kim and Tom reached us first and immediately grabbed Alex and plopped her in their canoe. Kim and Tom were experts in the field of canoeing and kayaking so I felt safe when I gave them my diamond. As Alex drifted away with Tom and Kim she asked, “Where’s my Barbie towel?” Dan and I looked and searched and dove for the towel; however, we were unable to locate the pink and white towel.

A few days later, Alex received a new towel, the Powerpuff Girls. She had matured past Barbie. Today, five years later, she still recalls and giggles about this event, but it makes me regret my neglect of her in that quick moment before we reentered the lake. “Nay. You’ll be fine.”

The Barbie towel at the depths of Lake Hartwell was sacrificed that day, but I still had my Alex. My Diamond.